


just falafs

by jellyfishes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, but it might as well be, it's not a coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfishes/pseuds/jellyfishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is the easy going one, which Zayn has always secretly been a little bitter about. He’s not as cool about the whole <i>life</i> thing as he likes to pretend he is.</p>
<p>For example, he drops — actually <i>drops</i> — the falafel ball he’s holding when the bell rings above the door and the blonde guy (Niall, he knows his name is Niall) from a week ago slides through the door. He’s got a beanie tucked over his hair, even though the air outside has still got the memory of summer heat on it. His glasses are sliding down his nose a little and the maroon knit jumper he’s wearing is clinging to his torso, the sleeves pushed up to expose the dusting of freckles along his arms. And he’s got a guitar slung over his back and Zayn’s not even going to bother trying to pretend it’s not the hottest thing he’s ever seen.</p>
<p>So yeah, he drops his falafel ball.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>or</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Niall is a shameless hipster and Zayn works in a falafel shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just falafs

**Author's Note:**

> i have honest to god been writing this fic on and off for 3 years and i have finally decided to pull my finger out and actually finish it — hope you enjoy it!

The first time he sees the blonde boy, it’s through a blur of steam that’s rising angrily out of the sandwich press that’s decided to spontaneously and annoyingly stop working, mercifully, just after the lunch hour rush is over. Zayn has a tea towel thrown over one shoulder and a smear of half-blended hummus across his forehead from where he wiped the back of his hand a few minutes ago. A few pieces of hair are falling out of his usually perfect quiff and he feels much less suave and put together than he usually does when he finally turns around to smile apologetically at the new customer.

“Machine’s broken,” he says with a shrug as though that’s not entirely obvious from the way the steam is now coming in spits of hot water that are scalding Zayn’s arms. And usually, given the chaotic circumstances, Zayn would fail to notice how perfect looking the boy standing in front of him is, but the thing is, the boy standing in front of him is in a whole other realm of perfect looking. Relatively speaking, Zayn thinks he manages to keep his cool.

“I can see that,” says the boy and Zayn blinks at the unexpected accent, the way it curls around his words like wrapping paper. He grins across the counter and runs a hand through his floppy blonde hair. “It’s okay, I’m just after tea at the moment.”

Zayn nods because the boy has these tortoiseshell glasses on and a shirt that’s got probably one too many buttons undone at the top and a silver MacBook tucked under his arm and well, he thinks that a person who has hair that looks like it’s been tousled by the wind despite the fact that it’s a perfectly still day outside is exactly the kind of person to come to a quasi sandwich shop all the way across campus just to order a tea. If Louis weren’t out the back frantically spitting abuse into the phone trying to get someone out to repair their most important appliance, he’d describe him as a dirty hipster. But _so_ perfect looking. He’s pretty torn to be perfectly honest.

“Preference?” Zayn asks, already moving to the cabinet that has their limited array of tealeaves. He cracks the door and is bombarded with the strong smell of all the spicy tea. “We’ve got your average camomile, earl grey, lemon, Assam etcetera. Then a whole lot more with names that I’m not even going to try to pronounce.”

The boy smiles (crookedly, how dare he) and shrugs. “Surprise me,” he says and then holds up a finger and says “hup” which makes Zayn stop in his tracks and the blonde is frowning a little as though mulling it over. “Anything but the lemon.”

Zayn is in the cupboard where they keep the cups for tea, his voice travelling up over the counter as he speaks again, crouched down trying to find a cup that doesn’t have a crack running down the side. “Can I get a name for the order?” he asks.

The boy grins at that, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Right, because we wouldn’t want to get it confused with all the other orders you have,” he says, gesturing to the empty-but-for-the-two-of-them coffee shop.

“Fair play,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes. “Force of habit, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s Niall,” the blonde says, slinging his bag up to take out his wallet and drop a clatter of coins onto the counter. Usually Zayn hates it when customers pay in coins that he has to sort tediously, but with _Niall_ (which he decides then and there has got to be the nicest name he’s ever heard), he doesn’t seem to mind so much, sliding them off the counter and into his open palm. “You can keep the change, yeah?”

Zayn watches him make his way across the shop and swing himself into one of the booths that’s technically meant for about six people. But with the extremely empty shop, he can’t really find a valid reason as to why the blonde shouldn’t enjoy the plush seats in the booth. He slides his bag onto the seat next to him and kicks up his feet, sitting them on the beam that runs along the underside of the table and takes out his laptop, immediately plugging in his earphones.

Zayn busies himself with the tea, choosing the least offensive smelling (chai) and shaking a few leaves into the strainer before adding boiling water. He doesn’t know if Niall (he can’t stop saying his name in his head) likes his tea black or with milk, so he pours a small jug of milk to give him along with the tea and calls his name across the shop.

Of course, he’s got his overpriced earphones in and doesn’t hear Zayn — doesn’t actually notice him until the cup is placed on the table in front of him with a slight clatter. He pulls out one ear bud and smiles a half smile at Zayn. “What’ve we got?” he asks. “Actually, let me guess.”

Zayn cocks an eyebrow as Niall brings the cup to his lips, blowing gently on the tea before taking a sip. He smacks his lips together and lets out a large breath of satisfaction. “Chai right?” he asks and when Zayn nods, Niall says, “My favourite.”

And Zayn thinks, _yeah, he’s definitely got something about him._

 

 

/

 

 

The next time Niall comes in, it’s the middle of the day, the sandwich press is working and Zayn’s arms-deep in a bowl of baby spinach that he’s adding to someone’s Turkish bread before shoving the whole thing into the toaster. Louis is working the floor, making his way between the tables and slicking a dirty tea towel across them as the patrons make their way out of the shop. He has this way of balancing at least five plates on each arm as he makes his rounds that Zayn has always envied. When Louis is working, Zayn usually sticks behind the counter, letting Louis’ bright personality wrap itself around the shop. Louis likes to talk to people, joke with the people who come across campus for the unique lunches they make, sometimes singing along to the iPod that Zayn has control over.

Louis is the easy going one, which Zayn has always secretly been a little bitter about. He’s not as cool about the whole _life_ thing as he likes to pretend he is.

For example, he drops — actually _drops_ — the falafel ball he’s holding when the bell rings above the door and the blonde guy (Niall, he knows his name is Niall) from a week ago slides through the door. He’s got a beanie tucked over his hair, even though the air outside has still got the memory of summer heat on it. His glasses are sliding down his nose a little and the maroon knit jumper he’s wearing is clinging to his torso, the sleeves pushed up to expose the dusting of freckles along his arms. And he’s got a guitar slung over his back and Zayn’s not even going to bother trying to pretend it’s not the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

So yeah, he drops his falafel ball.

Louis looks up from across the shop when Zayn swears and rolls his eyes, passing Niall on his fast trot back to the counter, his tea towel swung over his shoulder. “Hey mate,” he says, sliding in behind the counter and Zayn is a little pissed off that he’s making Niall grin by calling him his mate. “Loose canon that one,” he says, gesturing to Zayn. Niall lets out a laugh, stepping up to the counter.

“What can I get you?” Zayn asks, trying (really hard and very much in vain) not to blush as Louis steps around him, avoiding the falafel and reaching for the handbroom.

“You always let other people clean up your mess for you?” Niall asks, gesturing to where Louis is crouched down by Zayn’s feet, sweeping the mess into the dustpan.

Louis grins up at the two of them. “No, he just likes it when I’m on my knees for him,” he says with a wink and Niall lets out a loud laugh. Zayn thinks _I want to make you laugh_ , but he doesn’t say it out loud, thank God.

Instead, he tries again. “Know what you’re after?” he says and Niall shrugs, his guitar strap slipping off his shoulder a little. He pauses to readjust, hitching him shoulder up a little and digging a hand into his pocket to pull out all the change he has. There’s only about three quid there and Zayn thinks it’s probably not enough to pay for a tea even, but he smiles anyway.

“What can I get for…” he stops and counts the money in his hand. “Three thirty five?”

_Nothing_ , Zayn thinks, but says “Anything, really.” He hears Louis snicker from where he is still at Zayn’s feet and he aims a kick in his general direction, missing the way that Niall raises his eyebrows at the exchange and pushes the loose change onto the counter.

“Well, you can surprise me again,” he says. “Food though. As much food as Three thirty five gets me because I’m starving. I’d eat that grubby falafel if I had to.”

Zayn watches him for a minute as he turns away and walks across the shop and then turns away to layer lamb and mint onto a Turkish flatbread while simultaneously ignoring the way Louis is smirking at him.

“You right there?” his coworker asks as Zayn makes to stop out from behind the counter to deliver the food to Niall and Zayn gives him a look to tell him that he’ll talk later if Louis shuts up now. Lou just raises his eyebrows and chucks the tea towel at Zayn. “You might as well do the rounds if you’re going out there to deliver food to your waiting boy toy,” he teases and Zayn scowls at him.

“So I think he’s hot,” he hisses defensively and Louis laughs.

“Looks like that’s not all you think he is.”

Zayn slips out from behind the counter to avoid replying and makes his way over to Niall. He’s at a table by himself again, small this time, because the booths are taken up by uni students who spread themselves out with their friends and their backpacks.

“What is it?” Niall asks, looking up from where he is rummaging in his satchel and when he finally gets what he’s looking for, it’s just a grubby little notebook and a bitten down pencil and Zayn doesn’t think he’s ever met such a stereotype in his whole life.

“The best,” he says, before turning and scuttling away from Niall back towards the counter before he says something stupid like “You have really nice eyes.” Louis glares at him before snatching the tea towel back and heads back out onto the floor to wipe tables and collect the cups that people have left their lipstick all over.

When he gets back, a few customers have cleared out and the line is slowing down. Louis get’s a bit less professional in the afternoon and he uses the lull in business as an excuse to hoist himself onto the counter and swing his legs back and forth and refuse doing any work until Liam get’s there after his late classes and tries to convince him that he really should help Zayn. But until then, Louis will sing softly under his breath while Zayn works methodically around him. “So what’s up with you and the dirty hipster?” he asks and Zayn _knew_ that was what he’d say about Niall.’

“There’s nothing up with anyone and anyone,” Zayn says, shooting a glance over to where Niall has his pencil between his teeth as he contemplates whatever is on the page of the notebook in front of him.

Louis laughs. “Tell that to the heart eyes you were making as soon as he walked in the door.”

“Those weren’t heart eyes,” Zayn says quickly. “I don’t _do_ heart eyes. Those were… I think you’re hot eyes. If anything. There were no eyes.”

“I saw eyes,” Louis says, letting out a loud laugh before a song comes on that has opening chords that sound suspiciously like something from a crappy musical and Louis is reaching over to the iPod to turn it up and yep, it’s a song from a crappy musical that Louis has added to Zayn’s playlist without telling him. When Louis starts singing and Niall looks up to meet Zayn’s eyes across the shop with a little sparkle in them, Zayn’s glad that Louis is distracted by the bread roll that he’s using as a microphone.

 

 

/

 

 

Zayn starts to see Niall a lot at _Just Falafs_ (really, Zayn didn’t name it, but he thinks Louis agreed to apply here with him just because of the pun). After a few weeks of only seeing him on Thursdays, he starts to see him on Monday’s and Wednesdays too… and Saturday mornings, when no one in their right mind is actually at uni. And he thinks that maybe Niall is just in there all the time, but then Louis tells him that whenever he’s working by himself, Niall never rocks up. Zayn tries really hard to put it down to coincidence.

Sometimes Niall has his guitar and sometimes he doesn’t and Zayn always wants to ask him to play something when he does and the shop is empty but for two other people and he thinks Niall wouldn’t mind, but then Niall looks at him over the top of his glasses and taps his pencil against his teeth and Zayn looses his cool again and tries to think of a way to ask Niall out without explicitly asking him out and must look like an idiot because usually, Niall ends up just smirking and shaking his head and going back to his falafel.

“Why do you think he comes here so much anyway?” Louis asks one day, leaning against the counter as Zayn froths milk for the soy latte that yet another guy in a button up shirt has ordered. “I mean, it’s not like we’re better than the Yiros place that’s in a much better spot on campus.”

Zayn shrugs. “Indie vibe?” he suggests, and the guy waiting at the counter for his coffee chuckles.

“Better vibe outside the arts building in the coffee shop there,” he says. “We’re all here for the free wifi.”

Louis laughs as the guy takes his coffee and leaves, taking the very unsubtle smell of a freshly smoked joint with him. “There you have it mate,” Louis says. “This place is really only charming for the free services that we provide.” He sounds comically aghast, and Zayn makes a mental note to never mention the fact that there’s no wifi password to their manager, because he doesn’t want to give anyone (Niall, he doesn’t want to give Niall) a reason to stop coming to their store.

Honestly though, Zayn’s starting to think that Niall is pretty much unattainable at this point, which is weird because usually the hipster girls (and sometimes boys) who come into the shop like Zayn — like his tattoos and his dark eyes and the furrowed brow that make them think that he has emotional trauma in his life that their psych degrees could tease out of him. But every time he catches Zayn looking at him from behind the blender, he just raises his eyebrows, licks his lips and turns his laptop on.

 

 

/

 

 

Zayn likes spending the evenings at home with Liam. He’s the perfect quiet counter to Louis’ fucking crazy during the day and he’s easy to come home to. He’s not a bad cook either, always managing to whip something up that satisfies the two of them (and sometimes Louis if he convinces Zayn that he won’t be a nuisance if he comes over).

Lou’s in the awkward stage where he’s trying to move out of home, where he lives with his mother (who’s lovely and always gives him food to bring over to Zayn and Liam’s place) and his hoard of siblings. He’s been looking for apartments for months now, but he’s finding it almost impossible to find a potential roommate who’s looking for the same kind of flat as him. So, as a result, he ends up spending half of his time at the flat that Zayn shares with Liam, which is fair enough, considering that they’ve been dating for longer than Zayn has been living with Liam, but he curls his arms around Liam and gets in the way of the down time that Zayn so desperately needs after his busy days. Then again, he thinks that the look in Liam’s eyes when he looks at Louis is probably worth it.

“You could try to fucking keep it down,” Zayn mutters, rolling over in bed, and pulling his pillow tighter around his ears, but it’s not like his two friends can hear him over the sound of their shagging. Which is all very well and nice and good for them, really, but Zayn has to be at the shop at eight tomorrow and the walls are paper thin and he’s not had a wink of sleep.

He groans and rolls out of bed, padding silently across the rough wood floors and out into the street lit living room. “Pricks,” he whispers to himself and heaves open the window that leads to the fire escape, dragging himself through the frame and tucking his legs up under himself on the uncomfortable mesh landing. It’s the only place that Liam lets him smoke and he needs a cigarette now, to calm him down and warm him up. The orange tip of the cigarette gives him enough light to see the goosebumps rising on his legs because he forgot to pull on a pair of trousers before he heaved himself outside and he stubs out his cigarette after only a few minutes when he can’t work out if it’s smoke or steam that he’s breathing out (he’s that cold).

He figures Louis and Liam are finished judging by the almost silence in the apartment other than the hum of the refrigerator. So Zayn curls up inside his quilt until he stops shivering and falls asleep wishing that someone were sleeping next to him. But only because it’s so cold, not because he’s lonely.

 

 

/

 

 

Louis is still there the next morning and Zayn gets that that’s how it works when there’s stability in a relationship. It means that people stick around long enough for breakfast and a conversation, but it’s been a long time since he’s ever had something like that and he’s starting to think it’s got a lot to do with the fact that he doesn’t like making moves on people. Still, Louis has been here in the morning every day for a week and Zayn is a little scared that he might be trying to weasel his way into their apartment, and he loves Louis, really, but not enough to spend all his time with him.

“You’re not living here, I hope you know that,” he says over morning coffee.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Of course not babe, I know better than to try and impose on your man time with Liam.” He grunts for effect and Zayn laughs.

“Yeah, whenever you’re around I feel like I have to act like a real gentleman to try and impress you Lou.”

“I resent that,” Louis says. “You should always act like a gentleman around me. I deserve it.”

“Who deserves what?” Liam asks, emerging from the bathroom and Zayn points a finger in Louis’ direction, who bats his eyelashes at Liam.

“I’m a lady,” he says and Liam sighs.

“Remind me why it is that I put up with you?” he asks, turning his back on the two of them, towel slung way too low on his hips as he retreats into his room.

“I have a lot of good assets,” Louis yells after him. “Give me a minute to think of them so I can tell you!”

Zayn reaches over the table to whack Louis in the head. “Seriously though Lou—” he starts, but Louis shushes him.

“I know, I know! Chill Zayn, I met a potential roommate on the quad the other day. He just moved up to the city and wants someone to move in with, share the rent, you know.”

“Nice bloke?” Zayn asks, trying to disguise a sigh of relief.

“Seems pretty decent. Not a serial killer or anything. Though he could probably hide a loaded gun in his dumb hair. I think he’d give blondie a run for his money in terms of the windswept look.” He rolls his eyes. “Fucking hipsters taking over the world, I swear.”

“Probably just to piss you off, love,” Liam says, joining the pair of them in the kitchen and reaching for a piece of toast from the pile that Louis buttered up earlier. He ignored that way that Louis clutches at his heart in mock hurt. “What’s his name?”

“Harry,” Louis says. “He’s a psych major.”

 

 

/

 

 

Louis brings Harry with him the next time he comes over for dinner. The guy is all floppy hair and eyes a bit too big for his face and he lets Louis drag him along by the sleeve of his cardigan, right through the door that he _somehow_ got a key for.

Zayn looks up from where he’s lying across the couch and says “Hey mate,” and Harry laughs for no reason and swat’s at Louis hand because he’s still clinging to Harry’s cardigan like he’s going to run away and Zayn thinks he’s probably alright.

“Ba- _abe_!” Louis calls into the apartment and Zayn shares a look with Harry because finally he has someone who probably finds Louis’ craziness as overwhelming as he does sometimes. Because look, it’s not like Zayn’s a particularly uptight guy and he likes a bit of crazy some of the time, but Louis is the kind of crazy that punches you in the gut over and over until you’re doubled up unless you have the muscles for it.

Secretly, Zayn wonders if Liam’s good abs come from dating Louis.

Liam peeks out from the kitchen, grinning wide when he sees Louis almost bouncing off the floor in excitement. It’s sort of sweet how Liam’s emotions are so obviously related to Louis’. “This is Harry, my new roommate!” Louis says happily. “And this is the wonderful Liam Payne, my amazing boyfriend.” Louis is smiling so widely that Zayn thinks his face might split in two and he scoffs a little, sliding off the couch and throwing his book onto the coffee table as he makes his way over to let Louis introduce him properly too.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Harry says to Liam, who smiles warmly and takes Harry’s hand firmly in his, shaking it. Zayn knows that Liam gives a good handshake. He still remembers it from when they first met. Liam had seemed so ridiculously formal, introducing himself to Zayn at orientation week at university and Zayn had wondered how on earth he had fit in with the short, bright, psychotic boy clinging to his side, who he later came to know as Louis.

Liam’s made dinner and Harry ends up next to Zayn so that Louis can sit on Liam’s right side, where he always does. He’s not a very apologetic person, Louis, so Zayn apologises for him with his eyes as he hands Harry a beer, shaking off the condensation a little before handing it over.

“Sorry about the psycho on the other side of the table,” he says and Harry lets out a bark of laughter that he tries to press back into his mouth with his hands. “How did you even find him?”

Harry shrugs. “He found me,” he offers. “I was walking to a class on campus and he came up out of nowhere and said I looked like the kind of guy who wanted to share an apartment with him.” Louis winks at Zayn from across the table. “I’ve still got no fucking idea how he knew I was looking for a place to live.”

“I’m a bloody magician, aren’t I?” Louis says, leaning across the table to press a sloppy kiss to Liam’s cheek before stealing some risotto from his plate despite the fact that he has the exact same dish on his own.

Harry turns sideways to look at Zayn as if to say _Really, those two?_ and Zayn just shrugs and quirks up the corner of his mouth because despite the fact that Louis and Liam are probably the most unlikely couple that Zayn has ever known, they somehow work and if he’s honest, he somewhat envies what the two of them have. He’s never really had the best luck with love.

Harry and Zayn slip out onto the fire escape after dinner because even though Harry’s a guest, there’s still no smoking inside, Liam has _put his foot down_ so to speak.

“You must be game, living with Louis,” Zayn says, teasing in his tone and Harry chuckles.

“He’s okay,” he says softly. His voice is low and a little husky from the smoke and Zayn actually likes it because it’s quite calming and he doesn’t talk all high and fast like Louis or stammery and quietly like Liam. It’s a nice change and Zayn can already see how easily Harry will slot right into their lives. “I mean, is there something I’m missing? He’s not _that_ bad is he?”

Zayn laughs then because he realises that he’s been making Louis out to seem like a freak all night. “He’s not bad at all!” he says, reassuring Harry. “He’s my best friend. He can just be a bit… full on sometimes.”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I think I may have gotten a taste of that,” he says. “It’s not too bad though. I can do full on, just not really quiet people. I think because I’m pretty quiet myself. My best mate is full on too. Not like Louis — different kind of full on. One of us needs to fill the silence, you know?”

Zayn blows a thin stream of smoke into the air as he nods, trying not to let on just how much he’d really like someone to fill a little of the silence in his life.

 

 

/

 

 

When he gets to the sandwich place on Wednesday afternoon, Niall is there, leaning against the counter that Louis is sitting on. His head is thrown back in laughter at some wise crack that Louis has made and neither of them even notice Zayn until he’s right up at the counter next to them. 

“Hey mate,” Louis says, when he sees Zayn and hops of the counter. “I was just telling Nialler here all about how Harry broke is toe in the shower this morning. I heard a crash, a howl of pain and then a myriad of swear words I had no idea could sound so violent when said consecutively.”

Niall laughs again and it’s such a fucking perfect laugh that sort of bounces off everything in the room and Zayn has only managed to produce it maybe once in the couple of months that Niall has been coming in every few days and Louis seems to coax it from him all the time which is… unfair. If Zayn’s honest with himself (something that he’s rather terrible at doing), he’s a bit jealous of the way that Louis is so effortless around Niall when Zayn is on the other side of some invisible wall watching every little thing Niall does like the way he’s bitten his fingernails down on only one hand and the way he has a bit more brunette regrowth than the first time Zayn saw him and today he’s wearing a new leather bracelet that is made to look like it’s been worn a lot even though he probably just spent twenty quid on it in American Apparel or some equally obnoxious store.

Louis is talking to him and he’s not really listening as he glances at the order written down for Niall on a piece of scrap paper. Niall’s already on the other side of the shop, his feet kicked up on the table he’s sitting at and a novel resting on his knees. Zayn uses every ounce of his effort to look away from Niall’s eyes which are flicking back and forth across the pages of his book and sets about making his toasted sandwich, which he’s ordered with falafel and tahini today.

“... might tell Harry to bring Niall to our place on Friday because we know him too as far as serving him little balls of chickpea goes. That wouldn’t be awkward, right?” Louis says and then he notices that Zayn’s not really listening and is blinking at him like he has no idea what he’s talking about. “You _did_ remember about Friday, didn’t you?”

Zayn blinks again. “Yeah,” he says absently, because he knows that even if he did forget (which he didn’t, thank you very much), Liam would have reminded him about dinner at Louis and Harry’s on Friday. “Wait, did you say —” He’s interrupted by Niall yelling across the shop about them taking forever with his Turkish bread and Zayn sighs and glares at Louis, snatching the plate up off the counter. “This conversation is not over.”

Niall is grinning at him when he arrives at his table with his food and he folds down a corner of the page he’s on and closes his book, setting it on the table. “Thanks man,” he says, finger swiping at a glob of tahini on the plate and licking it clean.

“What’re you reading?” Zayn asks without really realising he’s said anything at all.

“Oh,” Niall says, sandwich halfway to his mouth when he registers the question and he puts it back on the plate awkwardly. “Poetry book for lit class. It’s no Joyce, but it’s okay.” He pushes his glasses up his nose.

_Such a hipster_ , Zayn thinks and smiles awkwardly, not really sure what to say other than, “Enjoy your meal.” So he does and then kinda scuttles away sheepishly and wishes he’d never asked Niall about his book at all.

“Are you really blushing because a guy you’re hot for just talked poetry at you?” Louis asks when Zayn returns and Zayn would smack him for it if he weren’t still desperate to know what kind of stupid plans Louis has been hatching to do with dinner and Friday and Niall and, really, he needs to know.

“Are you really going to try and pretend like you didn’t just say you’re inviting Niall to your _house_ on Friday night?” Zayn quips and Louis holds up his hands in defence.

“Would you quit acting like it’s the end of the world, you chump.” He snickers to himself at his own insult and turns to Zayn. “Blondie over there happens to be Harry’s best friend.” He smiles triumphantly. “Makes sense considering their matching unwashed wardrobes and pretentious record collections.”

“Oh,” he says, because Louis’ right. It _does_ make sense.

“Yeah,” Louis says, waggling his eyebrows at Zayn, who flicks a tea towel in his direction. “Oi! I’m clocking off. I’m gonna leave you two to your… awkward flirting. If you can even call it that.”

“Not a thing that’s happening, Lou.”

“Try not to let the sexual tension overwhelm you!” Louis calls over his shoulder as he leaves and Zayn is one hundred percent sure that Niall heard that and considering the shop is completely empty, who could he be talking about other than Zayn and Niall and if that’s not reason enough to start plotting ways to kill Louis, Zayn doesn’t know what is.

To his credit, Niall doesn’t look up from the page of the book that he’s reading again, but the air still feels heavy as Zayn sets about to start cleaning up the shop. He’s halfway through packing away the vegetables into the freezer when he looks up and sees Niall watching him, bright blue eyes steady over the top of his book like he’s never seen anything so fascinating in his entire life. So Zayn watches him back for a minute until it gets a bit much and he has to turn his attention back to the grated carrot in front of him.

“Hey, I’m off,” Niall says suddenly and when Zayn looks up he’s right back at the counter in front of him, smiling a little half smile.

“Oh, right,” Zayn says. “We’re about to close up anyway, so good timing.”

Niall looks at him funny before chuckling a bit and shaking his head. “See you Friday?”

Zayn nods jerkily, automatically and lifts his hand in a stupid wave as Niall retreats across the shop. The door’s about to swing shut behind him when Zayn hears him call out, “Hope it wasn’t too much for you — all that sexual tension!”

And that’s it, Zayn’s never leaving his apartment again. Ever.

 

 

/

 

 

Niall doesn’t come into _Just Falafs_ on Thursday and Friday comes too quickly for Zayn. He feels like he needs more than just two nights to prepare for Niall somewhere other than the safety of the falafel sandwich joint because at least there, they have some semblance of a routine. Niall comes up the counter with his (really nice) windswept hair and Zayn says “What’ll it be today?” and Niall replies with “You tell me” and then pays and sits somewhere near the back of the shop and Zayn tries really hard not to make a fool of himself and fails miserably in that task, but Niall’s polite enough not to mention it. It’s a bit of a limbo, but it’s a limbo that Zayn is very comfortable in thank you very much. At least, as comfortable as he can be when there’s this guy that he likes more than he thinks he’s ever liked anyone in his life and he can’t figure out how to let said guy know.

He takes the long way home from his classes on Friday, trying to prolong the inevitable moment when he’ll have to start thinking about leaving for Louis and Harry’s place. Louis has started calling their apartment a ‘babe magnet’ and Harry usually accompanies it with an eye roll in Louis’ direction and a subtle headshake to show that he doesn’t endorse it one bit. Liam doesn’t really seem to mind, just laughs and ruffles Louis’ hair.

But, despite Zayn’s desperate attempts to draw out leaving for their place, Liam is the most punctual person he’s ever met and despite the fact that they left ten minutes late, they arrive at six on the dot. Louis opens the door with a huge grin, which falls when he sees the two of them standing there, Liam clutching a bottle of wine to his chest. “Oh,” Lou says, disappointment edging his voice. “It’s just you two…”

Liam laughs. “Just us two?” he asks with a glint in his eye.

Louis looks at him fondly for a minute before leaning forwards to kiss him neatly, telling him that he loves him and that he was really only talking about Zayn anyway. Zayn rolls his eyes. “Don’t think you’re forgiven for the shit you pulled on Wednesday,” he says.

“So there was no making out in the storeroom?” Louis asks and Zayn glares at him, biting his tongue when Liam elbows him in the ribs.

Harry appears from the kitchen, pulling Liam and Zayn into a hug at the same time. God, the boy has some lanky arms. “What do you guys want to drink? We’ve got beer, shitty wine, nice wine that I’ve just noticed in Liam’s hand and possibly some whiskey if Louis didn’t chuck it after we had a bad experience playing a drinking game between the two of us.”

“I chucked it,” Louis chimes in and Harry whines for a moment before directing his attention back towards Zayn and Liam.

“Beer for me thanks mate,” Zayn says because he thinks he needs to be at least slightly intoxicated if he’s going to survive the evening.

“Nothing for me,” Liam says from where Louis has got his arms wrapped around him securely, his chin tucked over Liam’s shoulder. He has to stand on his toes to reach, but he always says he’s the protector in the relationship. “Pop this in the fridge though?” he asks, handing the wine out to Harry.

There’s a knock on the door while Harry is in the kitchen retrieving the beers and Louis almost jumps out of his skin in excitement, disentangling himself from Liam and wrenching the door open. “Welcome,” he says, “to the _babe magnet_ apartment.”

Niall is standing there in a loose white t shirt and light denim jeans rolled up at the cuffs and he laughs for longer than is probably necessary, but everyone always seems to do that with Louis.

“This is my boyfriend Liam,” Louis says. “And you know Zayn, sort of from _Just Falafs_ and Harry’s in the kitchen.”

“Heard you get here,” Harry says, reappearing in the doorway and chucking a beer at Niall, who catches it one handed and reaches out to pull Louis into a hug with the other arm. Zayn isn’t expecting a hug, but he gets one anyway and Niall kind of feels all warm and like home even though it’s a cliché and Zayn hates clichés. He holds on for longer than is strictly necessary and Niall smirks at him when he lets go, eyes travelling up and down his body before pulling Harry into a weird bro hug and then Liam, even though he doesn’t know him, so Niall is a hugger apparently. Zayn never really thought that was the kind of thing he’d get jealous over, but he was wrong, apparently.

Liam and Harry end up in the kitchen with the pasta because they’re the ones that can cook and Niall is flitting about in there too because he’s fussy and likes it a certain way and keeps demanding to taste the sauce and telling them to add salt or chilli or oil.

“You like him,” Louis says when Niall disappears towards the wafting smell of cooking food again and Zayn looks at him.

“Yeah, I thought that much was pretty obvious,” he says.

“No,” Lou says, shaking his head. “I mean, you _really_ like him.”

Zayn nods.

“Like, more than wanting to just shag him, yeah? You want to shag him lots of times in lots of places and get to know him and shit.”

Zayn nods again.

“Fuck, man,” Louis says, letting out a sigh and Zayn rolls his eyes.

“That’s pretty much exactly what I’ve been thinking for the past few weeks,” Zayn says.

“You’ve got it so bad for him mate!” he exclaims and Zayn shushes him when Niall joins the two of them on the couch again, a fresh beer in hand.

“What’re we talking about?” he asks.

“Lemon meringue pie,” Louis says quickly and Zayn tries to control his blush.

 

 

/

 

 

After dinner, it gets easier for Zayn to make Niall laugh. He’s still at the shop more than he’s not these days and Zayn is considering suggesting that their manager just hire him so that he’s actually got a decent excuse to hang around all the time. Zayn figures that if Niall hasn’t worked out that he’s interested after all this time, he’s never going to and maybe being friends will be enough (it won’t be, but Zayn isn’t letting himself think about that at the moment).

So he settles for the casual exchanges that he has with Niall over the counter while Louis watches on, gnawing at his fingernails as he waits for Zayn to make a move. And he gradually gets braver, joking with Niall and daring to flirt sometimes because it can’t really hurt. He hasn’t exactly got anything left to lose.

“Why don’t you have a chicken sandwich?” Niall asks when he approaches the counter to order and Zayn shrugs.

“Need some protein to bulk up that scrawny body?” he quips and Niall grins at him, shaking his head furiously.

“I could never destroy my image like that. I wouldn’t be able to fit into my jeans.”

Zayn smirks. “Don’t tell me you’d have to but a new collection of ridiculously coloured skinny jeans,” he says in mock horror and Niall glares.

“Ha ha,” he says, but he’s trying not to smile. “I like my jeans.”

Zayn likes them too. “They look like they’re painted on,” he says. He’s not blushing, really, he’s not.

Niall studies him for a second too long before replying. “Been looking?” he asks with an exaggerated wink and the tension dissipates.

“You wish.”

“Hey! Shut up and serve me like you should have done as soon as I walked in.”

“Sorry, sorry. Bossy?” Niall laughs, tipping his head back. “What’ll it be today?”

“You tell me.”

 

 

/

 

 

When the bell chimes over the shop door at five minutes past five on a fucking miserable Thursday night, Zayn is behind the counter, scrubbing at a stubborn yoghurt spillage on the floor. He sighs, cursing himself for not locking the door and uses an arm to haul himself up so that he can be seen from behind the counter.

“We’re closed!” he yells in exasperation, before noticing signature the floppy blonde hair appear behind the counter. “Niall?”

“The one and only!” he sings and Zayn rolls his eyes, flicking the kettle on. “Thanks,” Niall says, gesturing towards the kettle. “Only want a tea. Have you seen outside? It’s blowing a fucking gale out there.”

“You’re welcome,” Zayn says.

“Thought you might not serve me since I’ve been such a bad boy and arrived after opening hours.” He’s smirking that smirk like he knows exactly why there’s a blush creeping up Zayn’s neck.

“Well,” Zayn croaks. “You’re a good customer.”

Niall grins and makes his way over to one of the booths in the back with the squashy lounge chairs on either side of the table. “Make a tea for yourself too!” Niall calls out and Zayn sighs, already digging under the sink for a pair of cups.

“You’ve got milk on your lip,” Niall says, grinning across the table at Zayn, who pouts, licking across his lip to get rid of the milky substance.

“Shutup,” he says, wiping his hand across his mouth for good measure. “Don’t act like it doesn’t turn you on.”

Niall shakes his head in amusement, letting his spoon fall onto the wooden surface and fanning his hands out on the table in front of him. He’s got this wicked glint in his eye and it looks a whole lot like trouble. “You want to know what really turns me on?” he asks, running a hand through his thick hair and raising an eyebrow.

Zayn gulps, nodding once slowly as Niall stands up to make his way around the table until he’s standing next to Zayn’s chair. He comes to a stop and leans a hand on the table next to Zayn’s cup of chai, his other hand resting on the back of the sofa behind his head. His lips are next to Zayn’s ear before he even realises it. He smells like chai tea and smoke.

Zayn clears his throat. “So,” he whispers. “What is it?”

“Hmm?”

“What— what turns you on?”

Niall chuckles, low and throaty, his breath coming in a rush over Zayn’s neck. “Unprotected wifi.”

Zayn can feel a laugh trying to escape his throat, but for some reason, it never comes out. And before he can even formulate a response, the bell over the door is ringing again and two young women are bustling in through the door. “We’re closed!” Zayn barks out, but the moment’s broken and Niall is standing up and retrieving his bag from his seat.

“Thanks for the tea Zayn,” he says and he looks just a little bit flustered, which is so not the vibe he was giving off a few seconds ago, but he’s out the door before Zayn can process it and by the time his heart has stopped racing, its dark outside and his tea’s gone cold.

 

 

/

 

 

“We need better heating in here,” Louis says from where he’s wiping at another table on the floor. Zayn looks up from slicing cucumber and shrugs. “Well it’s fine for you when you’re standing by a toasty sandwich press all day or getting warmed by your mushy love feelings for Niall whenever he walks through the door.”

“Shut up,” Zayn says, stopping himself just in time before slicing into his thumb. “Seriously.”

“Feisty today, are ya?” Louis asks with the usual wriggling eyebrows. 

“Not feisty,” Zayn says with a glare. “Just… confused.”

Louis stops wiping and stands up straight, planting his hands on his hips in what he probably thinks is an intimidating stance. “Tell me,” he says. “Now.”

Zayn tries to work out exactly what it is that he wants to say because honestly, he’s barely been able to process what happened the other night himself yet. He’s been flat out with uni stuff and he’s been trying to work out what he’s going to say to Niall the next time he sees him, which thankfully hasn’t happened yet and that’s been taking up all his time. So, there’s not really been a spare moment for him to nut out the fact that Niall was possibly about to kiss him the other day, but also might have just been playing a really cruel joke (even though there’s no way that he’s the kind of person to do that and Zayn _knows_ that, really, he does, but he can’t believe that Niall would want anything from him).

So he does the one thing that he really doesn’t want to do and tells Louis exactly what happened and watches in dismay as a huge grin spreads across his friend’s face.

“Gonna ask him on a date? Gonna tell him you love him? Gonna spend the rest of your falafel ridden life with him?”

Zayn looks at him with his eyebrows raised. “Really? That’s the response you chose?”

“Got a problem with it?” Louis asks with a laugh like he’s incredibly proud of himself.

“Do I really need to answer that?” Zayn asks and then someone’s coming into the shop and it’s Niall and that’s just… _perfect_.

Louis has this cat that just got the cream smile on his face and he claps his hands together gleefully before Niall’s even reached the counter. “What’s up with him?” Niall asks Zayn, jerking his head in Lou’s direction and smacking a tenner on the counter in front of Zayn.

“Isn’t this just… delightful!” Louis says from across the shop and Niall frowns, clearly confused and very politely not mentioning the fact that Zayn is obviously trying to will the floor to swallow him up.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a freak, man?” Niall asks, taking his change from Zayn and heading across the shop to a couch, laptop already out of his bag and sitting on his lap.

Louis is glowing, positively glowing. “That’s a compliment coming from you, Mr Horan,” he says, but Zayn doesn’t think Niall is listening. He’s too preoccupied with babble to himself about an email he just got about an unreleased B side from one of his favourite obscure and unheard of bands. “Zayn, you’re in love with a dirty hipster, I hope you know that,” he whispers as he walks back behind the counter and Zayn hopes with every fibre of his being that Niall is obsessed enough with this band to have not heard what Louis just said.

 

 

/

 

 

“You could spell out an invitation to dinner in hummus,” Liam suggests, wrenching his feet out of Louis’ grasp where he’s giving him a ‘massage’ on the loveseat in Zayn’s apartment, while he’s trying and failing to watch the movie that Niall mentioned was his favourite a week ago.

“Oh,” Zayn says, “I’ll add that to the list of things I think are a good idea along with jumping in front of fast moving traffic and eating a plate full of chillies right before a long car ride with no toilet stops.”

Louis sits up and glares at Zayn. “Liam is trying to help, you twat,” he says angrily and Liam laughs, shoving him back against the couch and digging his fingers into Louis’ side until his frown turns into a laugh.

“Don’t be overprotective Louis, it doesn’t work on you,” he says fondly and Louis grumps.

Zayn feels bad anyway and apologises to Liam over his bowl of popcorn (that Liam made for him, bless him). “Why’re you here, Lou?” he asks. “Not that I don’t love seeing you… all the time. But aren’t you usually hanging out with Harry on Friday nights?”

“Niall’s over,” Louis says. “Apparently he’s having an existential crisis. Probably not meant to tell you that, but I’m tired and doubt you’re ever going to do anything about it anyway so I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

“Niall’s having an existential crisis?” Liam asks, concern wrinkling his brow and Zayn is trying not to listen, really, he’s not a nosy person. “What about?”

Louis shrugs. “Said something about someone having really unfairly nice eyes or something. I dunno, Harry ushered me out before I could catch much else.”

“Zayn’s got nice eyes,” Liam says smugly and Zayn throws popcorn at him, trying harder than he’s ever tried at anything in his entire life to stop his stomach from flipping out of his mouth and tap dancing across the coffee table.

“Shut up,” he says, but he’s smiling.

 

 

/

 

 

Niall is wearing a baggy deep blue sweater on Wednesday and black jeans and weird loafers that only he could pull off. The sweater is reacting with his eyes and showing off the gold flecks in the blue and he’s not alone, he’s brought Harry with him and pays for toasted sandwiches for the two of them and asks Zayn to put extra avocado on Harry’s, which is nice and thoughtful, God, Niall is so thoughtful. But at the same time, it was quite unthoughtful of him to wear that sweater because Zayn is supposed to be concentrating on doing a _job_ here and how is he meant to do it when Niall looks like that?

“Extra what sorry?” he asks and Niall cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Avocado,” he says. “You okay?”

“I like your sweater,” Zayn says and pushes Niall’s change across the counter without looking at his face.

The shop is busy and Zayn is backed up with orders, but Niall and Harry don’t complain one bit when it takes him twenty minutes to bring their food out to them and Harry even grins up at him with huge dimples and thanks him profusely and jokingly tucks a pound into the waistband of Zayn’s jeans.

“You’re a prick,” Zayn laughs, whacking Harry over the head and ignoring the cry of “My hair!” from the green eyed boy. Niall winks at him and hoes into his food. It’s a good day.

When he gets back to the counter, there’s a pretty brunette girl waiting to order. She’s studying the menu with her bottom lip caught between her teeth and she’s got this gorgeous plum lipstick on. She’s exactly Zayn’s type and he’s very aware of it, but also very aware of the fact that he doesn’t want to do a single thing about it and hasn’t wanted to do a single thing about any boy or girl since he met Niall.

“What can I get for you?” he asks and she blinks, looking at him for the first time before smiling.

“Oh, hi, sorry,” she says, clearly zoning back in on her current surroundings. “First time here. What would you recommend?”

“Well, falafel is a good place to start,” Zayn says with a grin and she rolls her eyes.

“Smartass,” she mutters, laughing at him and pushing her hair off her face. She’s probably what Zayn would call a hipster too, block fringe falling almost into her eyes and an oversized parka over her short shift dress. “If I knew I was going to get such great service here, I would have stopped by earlier in the year,” she says sarcastically. She’s flirting. Zayn knows she’s flirting and he’s flattered, so he smiles.

“The food is good too,” he says. “You know, the food that you’re yet to order.”

“The falafel sandwich with extra hummus,” she says finally, sliding the menu back towards him and grinning. “Please.”

“Right, grab a seat and I’ll bring it over to you when I’m done,” he says.

“How much do I owe you?”

He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, because he’s in a good mood and Niall has nice eyes and it’s a really great day. “On the house.”

The thing is, he’s probably going to ask Niall out really soon. Because he’s got nothing left to lose. He’s not a confident guy, but he’s reached a point where if Niall rejects him, he can just quit his job at _Just Falafs_ and delete himself from all of his friend’s lives and move to a different country and okay, he can’t do any of those things, but he thinks that Niall might possibly say yes and he’ll die if he waits another day. So, it’s not spelling it out in hummus but as he makes the girl’s sandwich he works out exactly what he’s going to say to Niall on his way back to the till after taking the food out to her.

And he’s so ready, he’s pumped up and he’s got this massive nervous smile on his face and a wobble in his step, but when he looks up, ready to do the thing he’s been working up to for months now, he sees Niall’s blue sweater clad back retreating out the door of the shop without saying goodbye.

 

 

/

 

 

“So Niall hates me,” Zayn announces into the living room as he slams the door behind him. Louis is sprawled on the couch and Zayn can hear the shower going, so he assumes Liam is getting ready to go to his night shift.

“What now?” Louis asks, hiking himself up so that he’s leaning back on his elbows, observing Zayn with a look that says he doesn’t believe him for a second. “Did he glare his hipster glare at you?”

“No, he — ”

“Did he write you a poem telling you that you’re his sworn enemy?”

“Louis — ”

“Did he pelt you with falafel balls?”

Zayn rolls his eyes and slumps into the armchair next to the couch that Louis is lounging on, tucking his knees up under him and resting his chin on them.

Louis sighs and pulls himself up off the couch, perching on the arm of Zayn’s chair and patting him in what Zayn assumes Louis thinks is a consoling way. He’s just glad it’s the end of the day and he doesn’t have to worry about anyone seeing his hair after Louis’ had his way with it. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Louis says.

The think about Louis is that he’s a total idiot, but he’s a fiercely protective friend and if he thinks someone he cares about is truly upset, he’ll go to the end of the world for them to make it better again. Zayn appreciates it more than he can say.

“Uh, I might have deterred him by not actively discouraging the girl who was flirting with me earlier today when he was in the shop?”

Louis frowns. “Did you flirt back?” he asks.

“No.”

“Did you appear to be into it?” he presses.

“No, I — well… I was in a good mood, I guess.” He says it like a question and Louis tuts his tongue against his teeth.

“Well, it’s clear to me that you’re an idiot and he’s a jealous prick,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, if he was that worried about who was trying to get into your pants you’d think he’d try a bit harder himself.”

Zayn sighs. In his head, he keeps telling himself that Niall would have made a proper move on him if he were actually interested. “Louis, I don’t think there’s anything there on his end. Don’t you think he would have done something about it if there were?” he asks. Maybe if he’d asked Zayn if he were single, or given him his number, or left a napkin with Zayn’s name in a little heart on the table or something. Maybe then Zayn would be able to believe that Niall was at least a little bit keen on him.

“What, like you have?” Louis asks, and when Zayn comes up blank, Louis smirks at him.

“I’m _shy_ ,” he whines and Louis whacks him in the head.

“Not an excuse.”

“What if he rejects me?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“What if we go out and it’s awkward and it doesn’t work out?”

Louis shrugs. “We quit the falafel shop, but not before putting a password on the wifi so that Niall can’t enjoy it while we’re not there,” he says.

Zayn laughs, shoving Louis so that he slides off the armchair. “You’re an idiot,” he says and Louis winks up at him from where he’s sprawled on the floor.

“That’s what you pay me for!”

 

 

/

 

 

The thing is, the more Zayn thinks about it… the more he realises that Louis is probably right (and man, it sucks to have to admit that to himself). Niall is the friendliest person he’s ever met in his life and he’s used that as his excuse not to make a move for way too long. Sure, maybe he’s just a touchy feely guy. But he’s never seen Niall lean over the back of Harry’s chair and whisper in his ear with a low voice.  
And God, he wants to do something about it.

Niall comes back into the shop (not that Zayn was at all worried that he wouldn’t) about a week later. He grins when he sees Zayn behind the counter — like, his whole face lights up and Zayn feels his whole body erupt in nerves. He’s the brightest person that Zayn’s ever had the pleasure of knowing and he sort of wants to know him for the rest of his life.

“Hey,” he says, looking over Niall shoulder for a second as the last customers from the lunchtime rush disappear out the door. “Y’alright?”

Niall shrugs, pushing his glasses up his nose and crossing his arms over his chest. He’s in a patterned shirt today that looks like one of the bright paisley prints that Harry is often sporting. Zayn wonders if the two of them share shirts and smirks a bit. “Can’t complain,” Niall says, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“You want food today or just tea?”

Niall bites his lip like he wants to say something, but doesn’t. “Just tea thanks mate. Harry’s cooking up a feast tonight apparently. Gotta save room.” He laughs at himself and Zayn bites back a chuckle as he flicks on the kettle.

He’s such a goner.

“Yeah, I reckon Liam’s had the same thought,” he says. “Caught him stuffing down a giant breakfast this morning and he said he was planning on skipping lunch.”

“You should come,” Niall says and looks a bit surprised, like the words leapt from his mouth without him giving them permission to do so. “I mean, not that it’s my house and all, but I know Harry and Lou wouldn’t mind, yeah?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Zayn says, turning his back so that he can grab the tea out of the cupboard. When he turns back around Niall is flushed and his eyes flick back up to Zayn’s face and — oh. He’s pretty sure the guy who never loses his cool has got a blush creeping down his neck because he just got caught checking out Zayn’s arse. Niall clears his throat and Zayn grins. “I’ll bring it out to you in a sec,” he says — thinks _this is it, really_.

He takes his time making the tea — lets the boiling water cool to eighty degrees before adding the tea (that’s how to properly make tea, according to Louis). The thermometer that they have for this very purpose is never used due to time constraints in the sandwich bar, but there’s no one else in the shop, which isn’t strange for a late Sunday afternoon. So Zayn makes proper tea.

“At your service,” he says when he finally brings the tea out to Niall. 

The blonde looks up from the notebook he’s peering down at and rubs a hand through his hair. It makes it stick up even more than normal and Zayn is stupidly endeared. “God, I need this today,” he says and Zayn notices the bags under his eyes for the first time. “My saviour.”

Zayn frowns, tapping Niall’s ankle with his toes and resisting the urge to hug him. It wouldn’t work — Niall is sitting down and Zayn is standing up so it would end up with Zayn’s arms wrapped around Niall’s face and his cheek pressed into Zayn’s tummy. _Stupid_ , he tells himself. “Are you okay?” he says out loud.

“Mm,” Niall says. “Just… had a lot on my mind. No room for sleeping well.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Zayn asks. He feels awkward, looking down on Niall from where he’s standing and he contemplates sitting down opposite him, but he doesn’t want to be so far away.

Niall looks up and smirks, raising an eyebrow at Zayn. There’s a blush on his cheeks. “I’m talkin’ _to_ it.”

Oh.

Zayn thinks he knew this was coming. He’s known since he sat down and Louis talked some sense into him. He’s probably known it in the back of his mind for longer than that — for as long as Niall has been winking over the counter at him and letting his fingers linger against Zayn’s wrist when he hands him a pocket’s worth of loose change.

But it’s completely different hearing is spoken out loud. Zayn feels his face heat up and a smile emerge on his lips. His heart is crashing against his chest in a _good_ way and his fingers twitch where his arms are hanging uselessly by his sides.

He should do something about that.

A second later and one of his hands is bracketing himself over Niall, gripping onto the back lounge chair just over Niall’s shoulder. He leans down closer to him, thinking of the way Niall had done the same to him a few weeks ago. “Hi,” he says in a breath and Niall rolls his eyes.

“Fucking idiot.” And then there’s a warm hand cupping the back of his neck as Niall tilts his head upwards so that his lips catch Zayn’s.

He pushes back — stepping forwards and leaning further into the kiss so that Niall is pressed back against the couch and a hand tangles in the blonde hair at the back of his head. It’s a little stiff with some sort of product and Zayn smiles into the kiss when Niall whines a little bit (he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s pissed off about Zayn mucking up his hair or if he’s enjoying it, but the way he makes the same noise again when Zayn tugs a little makes him think it’s the latter).

When Niall glides his tongue along Zayn’s bottom lip he thinks he blacks out for a second, his hand a bit achey with how hard it’s gripping the back of the chair behind Niall’s head, but he thinks he’ll literally disappear from the overwhelming feeling if he lets go. “Fuck,” he mumbles against Niall’s lips and feels him pull back a bit, eyes still closed as he lets out a shaky breath. “I— ” he breaks off and looks at Niall. He’s got a gorgeous flush on his cheeks and his eyes are bright. He’s breathing a little faster than normal.

(Zayn doesn’t freak out about the fact that it’s him that’s got Niall losing control a bit.)

“I’ve wanted to do that since you first walked in the door.”

Niall laughs and it’s the best sound Zayn’s ever heard in his life. “Wish you woulda,” he says. “Could have saved the lot of us a bunch of trouble.”

“I can make it up to you,” Zayn says, leaning down to press his lips against Niall’s again quickly.

“No more flirting with cute girls at the counter?” Niall asks, grinning wickedly up at Zayn.

“You’re a twat.” Niall’s smile get’s even brighter. “And that wasn’t flirting.”

“D’you wanna take me on a date?” Niall asks and Zayn feels himself light up from the inside out. Feels a growing warmth in his chest like melted honey and a smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” he says, breathless. “Where do you wanna go?”

Niall positively beams.

“You tell me.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://jellyfishes.tumblr.com) if you wanna chat!


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